Just Tonight
by BLACKxDOVE
Summary: After the curse has been broken, everything that Regina has held dear was ripped away from her. Alone, aside from the torturous company of her never ending sorrow, she has decided to end all of her pain. But when Emma stumbles into the situation will the savior be able to save the Evil Queen, or will she be too late? Trigger warning!


**Just Tonight  
**_Written by BLACKxDOVE_

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The strength and determination that once described her stride has long ago disappeared and she now shuffles along mindlessly. Black stiletto heels drag along the smooth cement of the sidewalk as she goes; the smug, self-righteous mask cracked and marred to reveal the soft, vulnerable cheek of a woman wronged. She can't seem to remember how long she has been walking, but based on the tension that wafts through her calves she believes it's nearly been long enough. But she remains unsure so she pauses, mid-step, and lets her glassy black eyes search her surroundings. The tears have finally passed—the sorrow sticky and wet against her lashes—and her vision is no longer blurry.

Pale, sick moonlight drenches the street in a heavenly glow and her heart trips as her gaze focuses on the cemetery in the distance. She wants to reach her destination before…well before her body can no longer carry her there, but it seems too far and her lungs clench and wheeze at the very thought. A bout of dizziness strikes her with the force of a hammer then, and she lets a cold palm lift to her forehead. The coolness against flushed skin makes a shudder skip through her spine and every muscle twitches as they force themselves to react. Something catches her attention, scratching at the back of her mind, as the shiver eases its way out of her frame. Turning toward the object of her distraction, her dark eyes widen as they take in the familiar shape of a car; the retro curves are smooth and catch the light with ease portraying its yellow paint.

Sighing deep within her throat, she feels a tremor of fear thunder against her heart at the prospect of being found out—of being saved. There is no salvation for the wicked, after all, and if her plans are ruined there will always be a next time. Shaking her head, the woman turns and begins scuffling down the street once more, trying in haste to pick up speed as the sound of tired, rusty breaks squeal their protest. Perhaps if she hadn't stopped earlier she wouldn't have had to worry about the interruption, but then again, perhaps there was a small part that breathed life within her soul, a part that wished to be redeemed.

"Regina…?" A familiar, even voice asks as the beat up car slows to a stop directly beside the woman, "…you alright?"

The brunette looks to the sidewalk, hoping in vain for the cement to reach up and pull her beneath its airless depths—to swallow her completely and rip the last salvages of breath from her lungs. The visual seems to consume her mind for a moment, but she shakes her head and pulls herself away from her imaginings. Turning her dark gaze onto the woman in the car, Regina let's her eyes roam over the stoic face framed with golden curls; the moonlight seems to ignite the woman's pale features and she glows…glows like an angel. The brunette sucks in a breath and steps forward unconsciously, the fair haired woman is a flame and Regina is a moth, her tattered wings begging to be devoured by the beauteous fire. Her mind is skewed and blurry, nothing seems to make sense, yet, simultaneously everything becomes clear and concise for the first time in the brunette's life.

"Ms. Swan…" she drawls, and the slur that restricts her tongue is audible and the blonde cringes, "…what a surprise."

Without a word, the fair haired woman creaks open the door of her car and slips out onto the street, her brown boots crunching against pebbles. The small sound of crackling gravel rips through the thick sheet of silence like a dagger and the brunette can feel her brain begin to swim within her skull: step one. A sickeningly sweet smile twitches against her full lips as she feels the affects of her own undoing. So happily stricken by the idea of demise, Regina doesn't notice when Emma's hand wraps around her own and pulls her towards the passenger side of the car. When they reach the opposite side of the vehicle, the brunette's large, dark eyes peer up at the cold green orbs in front of her and she can't help but melt into the blonde's arms.

"Take me home…" Regina whispers, her fingers twitching as she wearily clings onto the red pleather of the other woman's jacket, "…take me."

"This isn't like you, Regina…" Emma says firmly as she adjusts the woman within her arms so that she can look into the dreamy face of the normally stern ex-mayor. "What happened to you?"

"All villains have their exit from the stage." The brunette states her voice void of all emotion— completely monotone—as she brushes away from the arms that encircle her and opens the door to the car, unceremoniously dropping inside. "This is my exit."

The blonde opens her mouth to speak, but she sullenly lets her lips purse when the car door slams shut; the loud noise echoes throughout the night with a strange tone of finality. Rolling her eyes, Emma scuffles around the vehicle and slides into her seat, shutting the door soundlessly as she grips her fingers around the crackled steering wheel. Taking a deep, soothing breath, the blonde cocks her head to the side and gazes at the woman in her passenger seat; Regina is slumped against it clumsily, her eyes clenched shut as her teeth worry her bottom lip. There is something odd happening this evening, with this woman, and for some reason the idea alone makes Emma's heart stall within her chest. Dread tangling in her veins as she starts the car, waiting, as it sputters, for it to start.

"You know, what you said out there…it didn't make any sense." The blonde mutters as she executes a wide u-turn with the precision of a knife. "You still haven't told me why you're acting weird."

"Nothing makes sense." The brunette offers breathlessly as she shrugs in her seat, letting her eyes flutter open so they can trace along the other woman's agitatedly concerned features. "Life makes absolutely no sense. If it did everyone would be happy, and the sad truth of it all is that, more or less, we all die alone—alone and unhappy."

Morbid is the only way Emma can describe the other woman's words, the lack of a snide or clipped air completely taken from Regina's usual tone. It is as if the brunette is an altogether different person, she seems to be stripped of all elements of personality, and she is now only an empty vessel. All of the anger and strength has been ripped from her, and the blonde isn't sure how to cope with the strange turn of characterization. The last thing she had been expecting to find while going for her nightly drive was Regina—except this woman isn't Regina, not truly. She may have her body and her physical features, but the soul, the fire of Regina is gone. The thought makes a large lump bloom within Emma's throat and she shivers.

"Regina, you're acting crazy—just tell me what's wrong!" The blonde is becoming exasperated; in this moment she will do anything to get a trace of the woman she knew—the woman who had matched her with determination during each battle of wills they acted upon. "Please, just…tell me."

"Why would you care, Ms. Swan?" The brunette snaps, and for a second her dark eyes flash with an unquenchable fire, an unreadable urgency, but it is quickly replaced with a cold vacancy. "Regardless, there's no point. It's all meaningless now."

An annoyed and frustrated groan echoes in Emma's lungs as her fingers grip the steering wheel tighter between her hands; her knuckles turn white from the pressure. Turning into the curb, the blonde finally loosens her grip as she turns off the ignition. They are parked in front of Regina's mansion, the large, white structure looms within the dark—it is menacingly regal in the moonlight. Taking a moment to admire the architecture, Emma slowly lets her gaze fall back onto the woman beside her, who has yet to move. Quirking an eyebrow up in confusion, the blonde leans forward and then quickly pulls back when she realizes what she is doing. Yet, as she continues to stare at the brunette, Emma feels her chest tighten considerably, as if her muscles are being stretched to breaking point. Gasping for breath suddenly, the blonde can't control the sense of dread that wafts through the stale air of the car and she reaches forward frantically, gripping the motionless woman's hand.

The unexpected touch frightens Regina out of her thoughts, but she lets her fingers loosely curl around the palm as fear splutters through her limbs. It isn't the act of being touched that had frightened the brunette, it is the idea of never being touched this way again,—softly, tenderly and above all: compassionately—the thought of losing something so human terrifies her. Tears prickle behind her closed eyes as she tightens her hold on the other woman's hand; she needs to feel that closeness, even if only for tonight. Tonight. The foreign idea of a final day snaps along Regina's mind, and for the first time she realizes just what disappearing means. But she doesn't allow the terrifying thought to strike her, and she merely slides open her eyes and blinks, a wayward tear running along the curve of her cheek.

"Would you like to come inside for a moment, Ms. Swan?" Her voice is tattered and raw, and she can't manage to let her gaze fall onto Emma, not in this moment—not when she feels so completely defeated. Defeated. After all, it is the blonde's actions that have led Regina to this darkness.

"Sure," Emma starts skeptically, but swallows the worry and biting fear as she nods; her firm stare trying to force the other woman to look at her—to acknowledge what has happened. Right now the blonde would rather deal with the brunette lashing out at her instead of drowning in her deflated silence. "…I think we need to talk anyway…"

Hearing the woman accept her invitation, Regina slowly removes her chilled hand from Emma's warm grasp and opens the door of the car. Stumbling out of the low seat, the brunette eventually gains her balance and stands, wrapping her arms around her body in an attempt to fight away the cold. Though, no matter how hard she tries, the coolness continues to infiltrate her limbs and veins, wrapping its icy hand around her heart: step two. Yet, at the realization of this, Regina can't get herself to be happy with her body's progress—she's having second thoughts. But, of course, not enough of a reason to cry out for a hero—not enough to ask the fair haired woman for help. No, she would much rather continue on with her course of action alone; the consequences are her own. The brunette believes she should be use to taking the blame, after all of these years, and yet no matter how hard she tries to force herself to accept the finality of all of her decisions she can't—there has always been a third party, a single person who has pushed her to that breaking point. This time, the savior—the beautiful blonde—has been the one to destroy Regina's soul—slowly but surely. Perhaps it runs in the family?

"Do we have matters to discuss?" The brunette asks, perplexed, as she edges the gate that leads to her house open; it slides free easily, silently. "I assumed that everything between us was quite finished."

"The curse is broken, Regina, and people are after you and…Jesus…" Emma steps through the gate and kicks it shut as she watches the other woman sway back and forth while she walks to the front door. "Would you listen to me? You're in trouble—"

Spinning around on her heel, the brunette stumbles against the blonde, the hurried movement making her head swing with twisting dizziness. Pressing her palms flat against the cold, red material, Regina takes a breath and lets her thoughts unwind as she lifts her watery black eyes to Emma's worried emerald orbs. The persistent concern that shimmies in the other woman's irises makes the brunette cling tighter against the pleather, her fingernails digging in to it as she holds on. There are so many things she wants to say before she finds her time dwindled away; so many screams and cries she needs to throw at the blonde in order to form a modicum of closure. But she can't seem to grasp the strength in order to speak the truth, and Regina slowly drowns within herself as she sighs and steps away, pushing the door open with her shoulder.

"The trouble you speak of is pointless. There's nothing I can do…" The last sentence sticks within the brunette's throat and scratches down her esophagus with its sharp claws as she pushes the worry away. "Would you like some cider…I also have whisky?"

"How can you be so calm about this?" Emma exclaims as she forces the front door shut, the power of the push making the mansion creak with noise. Her eyes narrow as they watch the other woman scuff into the dining room, gathering two glasses within her shaking hands. Clenching her teeth together, the blonde storms towards the nonchalant brunette and grips her shoulders, turning her around roughly so that she will acknowledge Emma's presence. One of the glasses falls from Regina's grasp and smashes against the hardwood; shards dancing and glimmering against the floor. "Hey! Listen to me! People want you dead—they're begging for your execution—and all you can think about is…is having a goddamn drink?"

"What's the point?" The brunette suddenly screams, letting the other cup tumble from her fingers; the glass crashing and breaking with the intensity and volume of a gunshot. Fiery, acidic tears whimper against her lashes as her bluish lips quiver. A sob tears from her lungs and she bows her head, the unwarranted sorrow dripping down her cheeks—she can't stand letting the emotion go, it seems that her fears and rage is all that she has left. "I have nothing left to live for—my death is inevitable. I may as well hurry the process."

"Regina…no…" The blonde breathes; everything is slowly beginning to piece together within Emma's mind and her heart trips in her chest as it quickly picks up speed. A darkness shrouds itself around her, and she can't stop the terror that flares in her pupils—she can't imagine how she would feel if the brunette were to…The word can't even form in her head, it's too much—the pain is nearly unbearable. "That—this is not the right way to go about this. If you died…"

"Everyone would be better off…" Regina sighs, the muscle within her breast shallowly beating, the pulse becoming hollow and lifeless.

"Don't say that!" The blonde snaps and she harshly shakes the other woman's shoulders, watching with watery eyes as the brunette's head lolls lazily back and forth. Digging her blunt nails into the smooth polyester of Regina's trench coat, Emma tries in vain to get the woman to listen to her—to believe her. Though, what she doesn't seem to understand is that the brunette's death is imminent, the time has been rushed away—there is nothing left to save; what isn't dead already is in the process, held, lifeless within death's chains. "You have so much left to live for."

A small smile forms across Regina's lips now as the blonde's words of reassurance caress her ears. The idea of having something to live for makes a soft rumble of laughter bubble up within the brunette's throat, and she presses her cold fingers to her mouth to cover it. The irony is humorous, and Regina can't seem to contain her laughter behind the barrier of her hand, and it seeps through. Rich chuckles flutter through the large, ominous dining room and Emma has to shake her head in order to wrap her mind around the confusing situation. There is nothing remotely funny about the idea of the brunette killing herself—nothing at all, and yet here Regina is…laughing. The sound of maddening giggles makes the blonde's stomach twist with nausea, she just can't take all of the emotions that are bubbling inside of her. Before she is able to contain herself, Emma raises her hand and slaps the other woman across the face, her palm connecting with a cold, wet cheek. The sound hammers through the room, quickly quieting everything else—tension quickly rising between them and drapes both women in a cloak of sadness.

Full, pale lips contort into a grimace at the sudden pain and heat that engulfs the side of her face, and the brunette raises her fingers to her cheek, the warmth encompassing her hand, making her entire body shake with spasms. Flicking her gaze up, Regina watches in awe as restrained tears squeeze from green eyes and her heart tears. The woman who has taken everything away from her—who has ruined everything good she once had in her life—is the only person begging her to carry on. The notion of someone wanting her, needing her to be around is nearly as frightening as the thought of everyone wanting her head sliced from her neck. A gulp hitches in her throat, and the brunette reaches out to brush away the tears from the blonde's cheeks, but Emma flinches away.

"I have nothing to live for. All the citizens of Storybrooke want me dead and …" Regina's lungs tighten and she begins to find it hard to breath: step three. The lack of oxygen makes her head spin, but she forces it away. "…Everything I love continues to leave me—there's nothing left for me in this life. Nothing."

"What about Henry?" The blonde cries, and for the first time she can remember she doesn't question the pain and fear that burrows inside of her chest. "What about…what about **me**?"

"Y—you…?" The brunette questions, her voice quiet and shallow as fresh tears pound against her black, hollow eyes.

Frustrated sobs burn and lick against her lungs, making her entire body shudder with the overflow of feelings and truths that have suddenly come, brimming, to the surface. Surging forward, Emma places her hands against Regina's cold cheeks, cupping the woman's face gently between her palms. Her glassy eyes stare into the dark depths of the brunette's, praying and begging for any spark, any small shining flicker of hope within the blank stare. Something of substance and positivity that the blonde can cling to. Then, there it is, a small flutter of life within the drowning black orbs—a small whisper of strength that still remains. A watery smile twitches across her mouth then, and Emma closes her eyes as more tears tangle within her long lashes.

"I don't care what you think, Regina…" the blonde whimpers, her forehead coming to rest against Regina's—the coldness of her skin makes Emma shudder. "But I need you—I can't do this alone."

Choking on her breath, the brunette pleads for more time, hoping that someone; anyone will hear her pleas and grant her this one wish, just tonight. A sudden burst of pain breaks through her stomach and she gasps as the last step stabs through her. The dagger of finality twists inside of her, and Regina can't seem to stretch her moments any longer. While her limbs grow numb, she leans forward and presses her ice cold lips against Emma's; trying in desperation for the taste of the blonde to cling to her mouth and tongue. Nothing has ever tasted sweeter to Regina and she hums in delight as feels the warm, lithe frame press up against her. Opening her mouth to allow Emma to claim her completely, her last breath shudders from her lungs as they collapse. The beating of her heart eases until her pulse is quiet, swimming in silence. Her body gently settles as it pulls away from the blonde's arms, dropping to the floor. As she lays among the shimmering, jagged pieces of glass, everything submerges into darkness as a blood curdling scream caresses her ears.

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**A/N: This was a prompt and I'm pretty sure I died a little while writing this. God, this was so hard for me to write. I had to continuously walk away for hours at a time in order to get a hold on myself. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading it, even if it was extremely dark and depressing. Review if you'd like!**


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